


to every new and beautiful light

by yeolnuts



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Love, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeolnuts/pseuds/yeolnuts
Summary: Chanyeol's heart may be broken, but he's not alone.





	to every new and beautiful light

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is unbetaed, and english isn't my native language.  
> \- some twitter users have been a little harsh on Chanyeol so I thought I'll post this. O^O

 

It’s possibly the liquor in his blood or maybe the heartache in his heart. It could be the exhaustion in his veins or perhaps the yearning in his soul. Whatever the case, he’s pretty sure he was not having a dream. It couldn’t be, for his heartache was too raw, too consuming.

 

Dusk had long passed when he got home, the picture of a ruined drunken slip of a man who lost his love. The moon had taken with it the hours of joy and romance he had been steadily nurturing with Yifan. Ah. It’s not the moon. It's darling commitment-phobe Yifan himself who’d broken their happy bubble of love.

 

He had, in a fit of helpless anguish, drowned his sorrows in numerous cups of amber liquid. His wallet emptied in favor of getting lost in his drink and away from the troubles of the heart. A fitting drink that burned and glided down his throat to intermix with the flourishing ache and bitterness within his chest.

 

He went home wasted and with his heart in a wretched mess. Eyes blinded to anything but the pain caused by Yifan’s last words to him.

 

 _“I think we should go our separate ways now, Chanyeol. I’m not looking for a husband and clearly you are.”_ Yifan had looked at him with pity in his dark gaze. _“I’m not really the marrying type. Truthfully, I can’t… I can’t see a future with you...”_

 

Straightforward and honest. Viscerally unyielding to anyone. The very qualities he had come to love came biting him in the ass today.

 

In an inexplicable turn of events, from his slumped position on top of the uncaring wooden counter of the bar to the lonely dizzying ride home to the nearly impossible walk to his front porch, a welcoming warmth still greeted him home. Soft and pliant against the staggering lurch of his heavy body; tender caress of comforting touches gifted to him unabashedly. Words painted with deep worry and chastisement turning into saddened litany.

 

_Chanyeol! Do you know what time--what the?!_

 

_Are you drunk? Where have you been?_

 

_I was so worr--_

 

_W-what happened to you? What is--why are you crying?_

 

There were words mouthed along the skin of his neck, the curve of his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. Kissed softly on his fingers, the back of his hands, shape of love and apologies blurry and grasped feebly. Sentiments whispered silently, almost devotedly, to the shell of his ears and the sensitive juncture of his neck.

 

_I’m so sorry. I wish I can make the pain go away. I’m sorry Chanyeol-ah._

 

There’s the familiar feeling of being half hugged, half carried; weight wholly supported by another person shorter than him. The unassuming scent of bergamot and summer, fleeting but distinct it wafted like a playful fairy. His vision, though horrifically blurry with drunkenness and sleepiness, could still barely make out the green and grey of the other’s shirt. Checkered patterns of a jumper he’d gifted to his _three_ best friends. The pattern though too ugly was not ugly enough to help sober him up. It did get a snigger out of him, one that was half giddy and more than a little sad. He'd hoped Yifan would miraculously come to him.

 

A warm hand cupped his cheeks, tilted it upwards and the sudden bright glare of fluorescent had him grimacing and shutting his eyes. Slowly he felt himself be lowered, scent of bergamot remaining heady under his nose. It tickled familiarity, hushed awareness. It lulled him in a comfort he didn’t realize he was seeking ever since the words of farewell left Yifan’s mouth.

 

_I don’t know why you keep falling for people who ends up hurting you-- Why can’t you see me?_

 

_Just._

 

_Just this once... Forgive me Chanyeol, I know I shouldn't but. I--_

 

His body melted against the soft bed, consciousness already slipping steadily to the abyss of dreamless sleep. There were fingers, soft but they trembled, that carded his hair. It was what his mother used to do and for a minute Chanyeol feebly wished he was a child once more. A young boy ignorant to the world of heartbreaks and commitments. A young boy showered with love unconditionally.

 

_I love you so much, I wish you could see… I wish I can tell you--_

 

“Who are you?” He mumbled, words slurred and borderline incomprehensible in the hastiness of his question. "Yi… fan? Is it you?”

 

He wanted to open his eyes but movement of any body part seemed to elude him now, lethargy a formless entity that embraced him tight. Strength a concept foreign and just could not be grasped. His limbs were a sprawled mess, head heavy like a ton of rock, and his eyelids were as if glued tight together.

 

There was no verbal response to his query but for a gentle press of soft mouth against his lips. Warm and unfamiliar. Wet with the taste of liquid salt and mild trembling. It could be his own, it could be the other person’s. Chanyeol’s floating sobriety would never know. It alsted briefly, no more than a few seconds and yet it was enough to make the burden in his heart feel a little lighter. A little bit more bearable.

 

“Don’t go. Please.” Chanyeol pleaded, drunken mind on a person tall, sharp jawed and ashy blond. The glitter of rings and an overpowering scent of roses. The view of someone he was certain he loves and wishes he could spend eternity with. Someone who left him behind at the first sign of a deeper connection. Someone whom he thought, prayed, was the one. “Yifan…”

 

_I’m sorry Chanyeol-ah, it’s only--_

 

_I’m not Yifan hyung… I wish I am. I wish I can heal your heart. If only I ha--_

 

_\--reams. Sleep tight Chanyeol--_

 

_I’ll be here-- .... --ong as you need me._

 

_I lov--_

 

_\--yeol-hyung._

 

Morning came with the twitter of birds and the far away rumbling of cars. Soft sunlight filtered past royal blue curtains hemmed with golden threads and a strong alluring scent of brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen.

 

The idle prattle of three other voices can be heard even though the closed door. Interspersed with it was the sound of food being fried and china tinkling as if it was being arranged laboriously.

 

Chanyeol blinked, the oddly shaped crack on his cream painted ceiling forming a visage of mountains and oceans. Vast and faraway. Away. Like. Yifan. Gone.

 

_We’re over… No. This must be a dream. Must be._

 

“Oi! Aren’t you awake yet? Kyungsoo’s gonna beat your ass if you missed breakfast.” Baekhyun, his fluff ball glasses wearing roommate and best friend piped in by the doorway. "He was up real early cooking like a mad beast. You should've seen him. Did you know our little Soo can be real cute when he's all preoccupied with perfecting omelettes?"

 

Coffee brown hair, small eyes, cute nose, and square shaped smile between his mochi cheeks. One of Chanyeol’s old shirt slapped on to his slender frame and a cup of coffee held close to his chest like precious mana.

 

“We even got pancakes, sausages, and some kimch--” Baekhyun’s eyes widened. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

Baekhyun approached quickly; worried eyes trained like a hawk on Chanyeol’s face as he sat on the bed and put his coffee cup down by the bedside table.

 

Chanyeol frowned. “What?”

 

“Your eyes are red.” His best friend said simply. “Face swollen too, like a watermelon.”

 

Chanyeol touches his heated cheeks, embarrassment forming in abundance at the dried tear tracts and the imprint of his sheets. “I. It’s nothing. Uhh. What else do we have for breakfast? Are there eggs? I’m cravi--”

 

“Chanyeol.”

 

Baekhyun’s looking at him with so much fondness and concern, eyes of brown filled with warmth. Chanyeol squirms and bit his lips. He looks at his opened door, sees Kyungsoo, passing by with a pitcher of peach pink juice. Jongdae was close behind him mouthing complaints but still carrying the plates and silverware like an obedient child.

 

It’s just like every other morning. The four of them, roommates and best friends, having a simple morning meal before each of them go their own separate schedules for the day. It’s routine, something that Chanyeol can trust to not stop even when they had become old and weary.

 

His blinks, wet eyes finding Baekhyun's again.

 

 _Waiting. He’s waiting for me to bear my heart and… I can’t. But this is just Baekhyun._ _This is Baekhyun._

 

“Ehehe... Yifan he--” Chanyeol swallows, the bile tasting of bittersweet misery. The deprecating smile on his lips, Chanyeol knew from Baekhyun’s alarmed gaze, was the picture of pitiful existence. “He broke up with me. I guess I was just. not good enough.”

 

_“I can’t…” Yifan curled his fist, the bouquet of flower Chanyeol had painstakingly chosen was wilting. Red and pink and oranges bleeding into one mess of tangled thorns and bitterness. “I can’t see a future with you.”_

 

_There’s a shattering sound around them but no glass was broken. Only the fragile heart within Chanyeol’s chest was falling apart into a million jagged pieces, irreparable._

 

_“I’m sorry.” Yifan tells him, eyes looking everywhere but Chanyeol’s own. “Goodbye.”_

 

Chanyeol shuddered, sobs threatening to spill over. He tried to smile, tried to look strong, but in the face of Baekhyun’s unjudging expression his eyes only welled up further.

 

“Oh Yeollie, you shouldn't say that.” Baekhyun gathered him on his arms and the gates of the dam Chanyeol had been containing opened. Unstoppable. A rush of tears and heartache seeped out of him in angry continuous waves and only Baekhyun rocking him back and forth was enough to keep him from falling apart.

  
“Shhh… Everything's gonna be okay. It’s not your fault.” Chanyeol feels Baekhyun’s lips against his tear stained cheeks, Baekhyun’s small careful hand rubbing circles on his back. “You’re strong Chanyeollie, you'll get through this. _We’ll_ help you get through this.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- it's a mess isn't it? OTL


End file.
